


Mates and Mushrooms

by mikkimouse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Childhood Friends, Dubious Consent, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Rimming, Sex Pollen, Werewolf Conferences & Conventions, Werewolf Mates, as relates to the sex pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse
Summary: Derek's not that excited about spending three days at a conference getting propositioned by every Alpha with a single pack member. Stiles has a plan to make it stop.It might be a great plan...if only Derek weren't head over heels in love with him.It might be an even better plan if someone at the conference didn't have a vested interest in Derek staying single.





	Mates and Mushrooms

**Author's Note:**

> A full fic for [this not!fic](https://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/post/115414392870/loserchildhotpants-mad-madam-m-replied-to-your), because when someone says "you can't fit that many tropes into one fic," my response is OBVIOUSLY "Hold my beer." 
> 
> Thank you to [domesticated-chaos](http://domesticated-chaos.tumblr.com/) for the beta read; you are, as always, the absolute best. <3 <3

"Is that your invitation to the Greater Pacific Northwest Werewolf Symposium?" 

Derek scowled and yanked the letter away from Stiles's grabby hands. "It's the Association of Lycanthropic Pack Hierarchies of America's Pacific Northwest Regional Symposium, it's my registration, and you need to quit coming through my window." 

"But Derek!" Stiles whined. "You have a perfectly good balcony that never gets used."

Derek rolled his eyes. "We used it last weekend to read comics."

Stiles grinned and flopped sideways on the bed. "It's nostalgia." 

That was unsurprising. Stiles had spent most of his middle school years sneaking in and out of Derek's room, and then in high school he'd kept it up because Derek's parents had refused to give him a key. 

Stiles kicked at his side. "Seriously. Do you have to go to that thing again? You hated it last year."

"Doesn't matter." Derek shrugged. "I'm the heir to the Hale Pack. I have to go and make nice with the other packs."

Stiles's eyes darkened. "That doesn't mean you need to spend three days getting sexually harassed." 

Derek sighed. "It wasn't that bad." 

Stiles's eyebrows shot up. "You spent the next week hiding from people when you got back. I know they're trying to make matches for their own packs, but still. It's ridiculous."

"It's part of being the alpha." Derek intoned the same words he'd heard his mother say a thousand times before, for most of his childhood. "We must look out for our packs first and foremost, and learn how to deal diplomatically with others." 

"Ugh, that's such _bullshit_ ," Stiles grumbled. "So this will just be another year of asshole alphas flinging their single pack members at you in an effort to make a 'good match.'"

"I can hear the finger quotes." Derek pushed at Stiles's shoulder. "I'll be fine. I survived them last year and the year before, I can survive them this year." 

"But you shouldn't have to just _survive_ them!" Stiles sat up on the bed. "You shouldn't even have to worry about it in the first place!" 

"Well, until I'm mated, that's not going to happen." Derek's heart sped up, but luckily Stiles was only human, so there was no way he'd hear it. "So I just have to deal with it." 

"Huh," Stiles said. 

Uh-oh. Derek recognized that _huh_. That _huh_ meant Stiles had an idea that Derek wasn't going to like in the least. 

"No," Derek said.

Stiles flailed. "No what? I didn't even say anything!" 

"You didn't have to. I know you're thinking of something and it's not going to be good, so _no_."

"But what if you _were_ mated?" Stiles said, his honey-colored eyes innocently wide. "Would that get them off your back?" 

Derek didn't know where this was going and he didn't really want to. "It would, but I'm not, so—"

"But you could be!" Stiles cut in. "You only see them all once a year, it's not like they have to know the truth. You could just take someone with you as your mate!" 

"Oh yes, because _lying_ to an entire convention of _werewolves_ for three days is such an easy task." Derek rubbed his forehead. "Not to mention there's no one I'd be that comfortable with. They'd be able to tell in an instant." 

"What about me?" Stiles said. 

"What about you what?" 

Stiles swatted him on the arm. "What about me as your mate, dipshit?" 

_What?_

Derek gaped, and his heart went from beating fast to turning somersaults. Surely he'd heard wrong. Surely he hadn't just heard Stiles offer to be—

"Hello, Earth to Derek." Stiles waved his hand in front of Derek's face. "Come on, we've known each other for almost thirteen years. You'd be comfortable with me, right?" 

His mouth was so dry Derek wasn't sure he could answer. He'd be comfortable with Stiles as his mate, all right, but their history of friendship didn't have as much to do with it as Derek's massive, unrequited crush did. 

"Well, yeah," he finally croaked. 

"So," Stiles leaned closer and grinned, "why don't we do it that way? We'll have three days in the _lovely_ Seattle-Tacoma metro area, you won't have to deal with aggressive alphas, and you'll have someone awesome there to spend the weekend with! What do you say?" 

"They'll wonder why I haven't brought you before," Derek said, because it was the only thing he could think to say. "If we're mates, we should've known earlier, we should've—"

Stiles waved the words away. "I'm four years younger than you! Just say we were waiting until I was old enough to legally drink alcohol before making our mating official. Or until I was out of college." He grinned. "Oh, maybe I got _jealous_ after hearing about all the people last year trying to get with my mate and I'm coming this year to stake my claim." 

"That's ridiculous. It wouldn't—we couldn't—" Derek couldn't finish a thought.

"Couldn't what?" Stiles swung his legs around so he was sitting properly on the edge of the bed. "Are you seriously telling me you'd rather spend three days with those jerks all up in your business than have me as your mate?" 

"Of course not!" Derek said. There was nothing in the _world_ that he wanted more than for Stiles to be his mate. "That's not what I said." 

"Great!" Stiles clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll tell your mom the good news." 

Derek blinked. "Wait, what?" 

"We're mated!" Stiles said gleefully. "At least, for a weekend. This'll be awesome; I've always wondered what happens at these werewolf conventions." 

"Wait, _what?_ " Derek said again, but Stiles was already off talking a mile a minute about something else, leaving Derek feeling wrong-footed and wondering what the hell he'd just agreed to.

***

Derek should have been able to predict his mother's reaction, which was, understandably, Not Good. Even with Stiles's impassioned defense and persuasive arguments. 

"So let me get this straight," Mom said. "You want to go to a convention as mates. A convention filled with werewolves. Who can tell when you're lying." She frowned. "Did you agree to this, Derek, or did Stiles railroad you into it?" 

"I wasn't _railroaded_ ," Derek said. 

Mom frowned. "That doesn't mean you agreed wholeheartedly." 

Derek hesitated. He really hadn't _agreed,_ exactly, but given the choice between being bombarded by people trying to marry him off and spending the weekend pretending Stiles was his mate, well...he'd by far prefer the latter, no matter how much it would hurt in the meantime. 

"We don't." Stiles cleared his throat and turned to Derek. "Look, I know I was pushy, but if you really don't want that, we don't have to. I just...I don't like seeing you come back like that." 

And that was the thing, Derek really understood. If someone had done the same thing to Stiles, he'd be trying to do everything in his power to make it stop. 

"It's not about pretending you're my mate," Derek said honestly. "It's that it'll wreck everything if the other packs find out we're lying to them." 

Mom frowned again, but this time it looked more contemplative than angry. "Derek, you never told me they were making you uncomfortable. These symposiums are for making matches, but it's not supposed to get that bad. Is there anyone I need to have reported for harassment?" 

"No, no. It wasn't like that," Derek said. 

Stiles snorted. "I don't even need to be a wolf to hear that lie." 

Mom shot Stiles a look, and he quieted, looking sheepish. Then she turned her attention back to Derek. "Would you feel more comfortable if Stiles were there with you, in whatever capacity?" 

He nodded. "It would be nice," he admitted. "It's sometimes draining to be the only one there that I know, and...it would help."

The idea of a weekend away with Stiles sounded both amazing and torturous, but the idea of a weekend alone at the convention just sounded torturous. 

"Okay," Mom said. "Then Stiles, you may go. I would advise you _against_ pretending to be mates. Even though you two are very close and it's doubtful they'd be able to smell whether you were mated or not, Derek is right. Lying to an entire convention full of werewolves—especially werewolves with whom we need alliances or _have_ alliances—is a _very bad idea_." 

She cleared her throat. "That being said, Stiles, if you see anyone harassing Derek, you have my permission to use whatever means necessary to get them to stop. I would also encourage you to report any harassment that _does_ happen. But, who knows?" She shrugged. "Maybe just showing up with another person will be enough to keep some of them off your back." 

Stiles flailed. "That's what I was saying!" 

Mom shot him another look, and he sat on his hands. Derek tried not to laugh too hard. 

"So," Stiles grinned at Derek, "you gonna add me as your plus one?" 

Derek sighed and thought about the registration still sitting on his desk. "Yeah, I guess I am."

***

The six weeks between the decision to attend and the weekend of the conference passed in a blink, and it seemed the next thing Derek knew, he and Stiles were boarding their flight to Seattle. Stiles had a bigger suitcase than anybody needed for a three-day trip, in addition to his bulging backpack. Derek eyed both judgmentally.

"Shut up," Stiles said, even though Derek hadn't said a word. "I am _prepared_ , okay?" 

Derek shrugged and hoisted his own bags: a carry-on suitcase and a black briefcase with his laptop and two books in it. 

Stiles made a face at him. Derek made one right back. 

To Derek's surprise, Stiles was a shockingly good seatmate on the airplane. He put in his headphones as soon as he was allowed and dug a book out of his backpack, and then proceeded to stay quiet for the duration of the two-hour flight. Sure, he bopped his head along to his music and occasionally tapped his fingers against the cover of his book, but that was mild compared to what Derek had expected. 

Stiles popped out his headphones when the flight attendants came by with snacks and drinks, and leaned into Derek to make his request. "I'll just have water, but my boo here will have ginger ale." 

Derek's heart sped up at the words, but he managed to keep it together until the flight attendant gave them their drinks and moved on down a couple of rows. "Your _boo_?" 

Stiles grinned and twisted the top off his water. "Just in case." 

Derek picked up his book again and tried to ignore the way his ears were burning. "Don't call me that." 

Stiles sighed heavily. "Fine. Ruin all my fun, why don't you?" 

Derek elbowed him, and Stiles elbowed him back. 

Their flight landed on time, and once they'd picked up Stiles's bag from the carousel, Derek hailed a cab to take them to the hotel downtown. Stiles spent most of the drive with his face almost plastered to the window, eyes huge. "Can we go to the Space Needle?" 

Derek shrugged. "Maybe?" 

"Can we take a ferry to one of the islands?" 

"Probably not," Derek said. "We won't really have time." 

"Can we go watch them throw fish at the market?" Stiles twisted away from the window to look at Derek again. "They've got that here, don't they?" 

"Yeah, I think our hotel's only a short walk from there." Derek pulled it up on his phone. "We could walk down to the Pike Place Market once we're checked into the hotel, get something to eat?" 

Stiles's face lit up. "That sounds perfect."

They reached the hotel and got settled quickly; registration for the conference wouldn't start until later that afternoon, which meant they had a good three hours to take in the sights. Normally Derek would've settled into his hotel room and read until he had to emerge for the conference, but with Stiles here, he was actually excited at the prospect of going and doing touristy things. 

It was a beautiful day for walking down to the waterfront, just a little on the chilly side, some clouds but thankfully no rain. Derek had thought Stiles might balk at walking the whole way, even though it was only a few blocks, but apparently he was just as tired of sitting after two hours on a plane as Derek had been. 

Derek closed his eyes and breathed in the salt-tinged air. Despite how much he disliked the ALPHA-PNW symposium, he loved coming to Seattle. It was a gorgeous city. 

"You look relaxed," Stiles said. 

Derek opened his eyes and smiled. "I am." 

Stiles bumped his shoulder. "Good. I want you to stay that way." 

_Won't be too hard with you here,_ Derek thought. 

They wandered the market for the better part of two hours, Stiles dragging Derek from booth to booth and Derek letting himself be dragged. They watched the fish getting thrown (much to Stiles's glee) and stopped for a beer and some lunch at one of the restaurants, then poked around some of the craft booths looking for souvenirs. Stiles's excitement was catching, and every time he discovered some new booth and his face lit up, Derek's stupid heart flip-flopped.

He couldn't decide if this was the best or worst idea he'd ever had. 

He could have easily spent the entire weekend watching Stiles in the Pike Place Market (it was a _lot_ bigger than Derek had expected), but the registration time crept ever closer, and eventually he had to nudge a reluctant Stiles back toward the hotel.

"Think we can come back before our flight on Sunday?" Stiles asked. "I want to get a salmon for my dad." 

"I'm not sure the airline will let you put a whole salmon on the plane," Derek pointed out.

Stiles poked him in the shoulder. "Oh ye of little faith."

As soon as they reached the hotel, the smell of other, vaguely familiar werewolves hit Derek's nose, and he stiffened. Shit. Registrations had only just started; he hadn't really expected anyone else to be here yet. 

But no, standing at the registration table were Deucalion and Kali, two Alphas from Oregon whose packs held a good chunk of territory. Kali wasn't too bad, but Deucalion had spent the past two years not-so-subtly trying to push Derek into an arrangement with one of his betas, Ethan. 

Derek had hoped he wouldn't see Deucalion until tomorrow at the earliest. 

"Hey," Stiles said, "you okay?" 

They were close enough now that Derek couldn't answer without being overheard. He tried to shake out the tension in his shoulders, but he had a feeling it wouldn't fool Stiles for a minute. "Let's get our registration," he said, avoiding the question entirely. 

As soon as they were close enough, Deucalion turned and smiled broadly. "Why, Derek, what a surprise! You aren't usually here this early." He sniffed the air again, and his smile faded a bit. "Are you with someone?" 

Before Derek could respond, Stiles slid in front of him and held out his hand. "Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you. I'm Derek's plus one this year." 

Deucalion's smile returned, but this time with sharper teeth. He switched his cane to his left hand and held out his right. "Mr. Stilinski. You haven't joined us before, have you? I'm sure I'd have remembered your scent." 

"I haven't," Stiles said. "Normally Derek braves this thing himself, but I just hated the thought of him coming alone this year, so I badgered him into bringing me along." 

Deucalion took his hand (clawed, Derek noticed) back from Stiles and wrapped it around his cane. "Have you known each other long?" 

Stiles looked to Derek and beamed. "Nearly thirteen years, right, Derek?" 

Derek felt a little lightheaded. Stiles hadn't lied once, but the way he was talking made it _sound_ like they were together. "About that, yeah. Stiles has been a delightfully constant irritation for almost half my life." 

Stiles elbowed him. "Oh, you know you love me." 

Derek heaved a put-upon sigh, like his heart wasn't about to hammer itself out of his chest at Stiles's words. "I called you a delight, didn't I?" 

"You _did_." Stiles scratched the back of Derek's neck. "I'm going to grab our registrations and then we can head back to the room for a bit, okay?" 

"Okay," Derek said, watching Stiles saunter over to the werewolf running the registration booth. 

His neck still burned from the feeling of Stiles's fingers there, and from the way Kali was looking at him, Derek knew the gesture wasn't lost on her. He and Stiles casually touched each other all the time, but that kind of scent-marking would be extra-noticeable here. 

Kali crossed her arms and gave him a knowing smile. "Well, now I see why you were so against making a match, with a boy like that waiting at home for you." 

She was right on the money there. Derek let his gaze linger on Stiles and hoped he didn't look too love-stricken. "He's one of a kind." 

"I'm sure he is," Deucalion said dryly. "For a human." 

Derek whipped around, teeth bared, but Deucalion was smiling placidly, eyes hidden behind his dark glasses. Derek schooled his expression. Deucalion might not be able to see it, but Kali could, and Derek didn't want a hint of fang in his voice. 

Deucalion held his arm out. "Come, Kali. We must be going. Always lovely to run into you, Derek. Maybe we'll have a better chance to catch up later this weekend." 

Kali gave Derek a nod, and took Deucalion's arm to lead him away. "Have a good weekend, Derek." 

"You, too," Derek said, and felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate the further they walked. 

A hand clapped on his shoulder, and Derek turned to see Stiles there, holding two badges and two registration bags. "You holding up okay, big guy?" Stiles asked. 

Derek grabbed his bag and badge. "I'm fine." 

Stiles fidgeted a little. "I didn't lie," he said quietly.

"I know," Derek said. "And so do they." 

Why was he even remotely surprised that Stiles had figured out a way to imply they were together without actually lying to werewolves? 

"Look, this way, when I'm not with you next year, or whenever you show up with your actual mate, you can just tell them I came as your friend," Stiles said. "It's on them for assuming otherwise." 

Derek shook his head. "It's a pretty fine line we're walking." 

Stiles nodded. "I know. I promise, I'll be careful. I don't want this to bite either of us in the ass." 

Derek sighed. Somehow, he had a feeling it would anyway.

***

Surprisingly, the rest of the weekend went much more smoothly than Derek had anticipated. The other attendees were much less aggressive than they had been in previous years, which meant he had only a few minor interactions, all of which he could handle himself and none of which sent him to his room to hide for the rest of the day. 

The best part, though, was having Stiles at his side throughout all the seminars and panels and meet-ups. Normally Derek spent his time there either taking notes or trying not to fall asleep, but Stiles had never seen the inner workings of a werewolf conference before. Everything was new and exciting to him, and he seemed to enjoy all the panels. Derek caught him stuffing pamphlets about nontraditional packs and human-werewolf pack structures into his bag. 

"Planning on starting your own pack?" he asked. 

Stiles jumped guiltily. "You can never have too much information." 

Derek steered him toward another group of Alphas and pointed to an older lady. "That's Satomi," he said. "If you're interested in nontraditional pack structures, she's the best one to talk to." 

Stiles grinned hugely. "Thanks, man. You think she'll talk to me?"

"She and my mother have been friends for years," Derek said. "Just tell her you're here with Alpha Hale's son."

Stiles hugged him hard, smelling bright and happy, and Derek's stupid heart flip-flopped so loudly every werewolf in the room probably heard it. 

All in all, the conference went much better than Derek had expected. Even Deucalion had backed off, which was a miracle in and of itself. Derek didn't even see him again until the final dinner on Saturday night, when he stopped by their table to briefly give them his regards. 

"And I wanted to extend my deepest apologies to you particularly, Derek," Deucalion said. "I wouldn't have been quite so insistent had I known there was someone waiting for you at home." 

Derek bit his lip against the retort that he shouldn't have been so insistent regardless of Derek's mated status, and managed to accept the apology with some semblance of grace. 

Stiles watched him leave on Kali's arm. "I still don't trust him," he muttered. 

Derek dug into his steak, a perfect medium rare. "I don't either," he said. "But at least we won't have to see him for another year." 

Stiles tapped his fork against his plate. "Yeah. I don't know. I just get the feeling that he's not the type to admit defeat so easily." 

"That's true," Derek agreed, "but it's hard to keep pushing when it looks like someone's already mated. He's diplomatic enough to realize pushing makes him look like the asshole in this case." 

"I hope you're right," Stiles said, with one last dark look in Deucalion's direction.

***

Derek knew something was wrong before they finished the final course of the meal. At first, he just felt overheated, which he attributed to the number of people in the dining room and the fabric of his suit, but his heart started racing by the time dessert had been delivered. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he was sick. 

Stiles touched his arm. "Hey, Derek, are you okay?" 

Stiles wasn't even close to touching his bare skin, and yet Derek's arm felt like it was on fire, branded by those five fingers. Heat pooled in his gut, and he had the overwhelming urge to sweep the plates from the table and bend Stiles over it, right there in front of everyone. 

_Shit_. This wasn't normal. 

Derek loosened his tie and gave a smile that probably wouldn't convince anyone he was fine, let alone Stiles. "I think I'll just head back up to the room. Must have eaten something that disagreed with me." 

None of his other dining companions looked like they believed him, but Derek's heart was racing so fast _he_ couldn't even feel the lie. He stumbled out of the dining room without looking back, ignoring Stiles's voice calling after him. 

By the time he made it to the elevators, he was sweaty and shaking, and his tie felt like it was strangling him. Derek unknotted the damn thing and yanked it off, and undid the top two buttons on his shirt. He'd go back to the room and take a cold bath. Hopefully whatever this was would pass once he cooled himself down. 

The elevator dinged, and Derek got on and hit his floor button, and then pushed the button to close the doors. He didn't think he should be sharing this with anybody right now.

"Wait!" 

He looked up just in time to see Stiles slide his way through the elevator doors, his own tie looser and his hair askew. His scent immediately suffused the air, thick and spicy, and the arousal Derek had felt earlier surged back even stronger. 

Derek pressed himself back against the opposite wall, gripping the bar at the back of the elevator hard enough to leave imprints. 

Stiles took half a step toward him, hand outstretched. "Derek, what's—" 

"Don't come any closer," Derek rasped out. 

The door slid shut and they started their ascent. This was going to be the longest elevator ride of his _life_. 

To his credit, Stiles moved to the other side of the elevator, staying as far away from Derek as he could get in the tiny box. The tiny, _enclosed_ space, where Stiles's scent was getting thicker with every passing second. Derek could practically taste it with each breath. 

He let go of the bar and crouched to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself, as if he could somehow physically restrain himself from launching across the elevator to rip all of Stiles's clothes off. 

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked. 

Derek shook his head. He had no idea. A shudder racked his body, so hard he almost smacked his head on the wall of the elevator. He could hear Stiles's heartbeat, pounding like a drum, relentless and inescapable. He clapped his hands over his ears, as though that might drown it out. Derek couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much trouble controlling his senses. 

The elevator dinged, and Derek bolted out of it the moment the doors were open. It took him three tries to get his keycard out of his pocket and two more tries to get the damn thing in the door, but finally he was back in the relative safety of their room. He didn't have long, though; Stiles was already running down the hall after him. 

Derek went into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. There. At least he could keep this door between them, and the bathroom didn't smell nearly as much like Stiles as the bedroom did. 

He shuddered again, harder this time, and went to the sink to splash cold water on his face. The arousal wasn't going away. If anything, it was getting stronger with each passing moment. His cock was so hard it throbbed. 

The room door opened and closed, and then Stiles was knocking on the bathroom. "Derek, seriously, you're scaring the hell out of me. What's going on?" 

The sound of Stiles's voice did not help his situation in the least, and Derek bent back over the sink to splash more water on his face and neck. 

"Derek!" 

"I don't know!" Derek shouted back. "I don't know, I just...don't feel well." 

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, no shit. Okay, fuck, hold on." 

Derek heard rustling in the room, and then Stiles was calling through the door, "Tell me your symptoms." 

His claws popped out, and Derek was pretty sure he cracked the sink. He made himself let go, and stumbled back to sit on the edge of the tub. "I, uh..." He took a deep breath. "I'm too hot. Sweating. I can't stop shaking. My senses are stronger." He looked at his hands, tried to will back his claws to no avail. "I'm having trouble controlling my shift." 

He heard Stiles muttering to himself, repeating what Derek was saying, and tapping away at a keyboard by the sound of it. "Okay, got it. Anything else?" 

Derek looked down at his cock, and then prayed for the ground to swallow him up before he said what he had to say. "I'm...aroused. Very aroused." 

There was a pause in the typing. "Wait, you're _what?_ " 

"Stiles!" 

"Okay, okay, just making sure I heard you right!" The typing resumed. "And when did it start?" 

"At the dinner." Derek rubbed his head; his vision was blurring. "Um, after the main course but before the dessert. My vision's starting to blur." 

"Gotcha," Stiles said. "So possibly something you ate, then." 

"I'm a _werewolf_ ," Derek snapped, and felt his fangs elongate. "I don't get food poisoning!" 

"No, but you get mistletoe poisoning!" Stiles shouted back. "Or mountain ash poisoning, or any number of other random fucking things, so give me two minutes to look and see what the _hell_ you've ingested so I can figure out the fucking antidote!" 

Derek leaned against the wall, the tile blessedly cool against his forehead. God, it felt like his skin was going to burn right off his bones. "I didn't _ingest_ anything. I had a salad and a baked potato and a steak with a fucking mushroom sauce! Just like everyone else at the damn dinner!" 

The typing stopped again. "What kind of mushrooms did you have?" 

Derek banged his head against the tile in frustration. "Oh my _God_ , are you kidding me right now?" 

"No, I'm not fucking kidding you!" 

"I don't _know,_ do I look like the chef? Probably Portobello or whatever they put in the damn thing." 

Stiles cursed under his breath and started typing again, but he didn't ask Derek any more questions. 

Derek was grateful for the reprieve. It was taking every ounce of his willpower to keep from ripping the door off its hinges so he could shove Stiles up against the wall and just lick along the column of his neck. 

His cock throbbed at the thought, and Derek bit down onto his fist to keep from whimpering. He needed a cold shower and now. 

"Oh, shit," Stiles said. 

Derek froze. "What's 'oh, shit'?" 

"Um, so, I can't be one hundred percent sure, but this matches all of your symptoms and it's the only thing you could have ingested that you wouldn't have immediately recognized, and—" 

" _Stiles!_ " 

"It's a mushroom!" Stiles shouted. "Some fucking Latin name I can't pronounce, but its common name is pon farr." 

Derek facepalmed. "You're _kidding_." 

"I wish I was," Stiles said grimly. "They call it that because—" 

"I've seen _Star Trek_ , Stiles, I can make an educated guess!" 

"Yeah, well, do you remember the part where Spock could _die_ if he doesn't have sex with someone?" 

Despite the heat on his skin, Derek suddenly felt chilled. "What?" 

"It's something with the chemical compound of the mushroom, I don't fucking understand the science side," Stiles said. "But the bottom line is, if you don't have sex with someone in the next twelve hours, the toxins in the mushroom are going to kill you. With someone is specified, by the way, masturbation won't work. I checked already." 

Fucking hell. Derek buried his face in his hands. This wasn't happening. This _couldn't_ be happening.

"Derek?" Stiles tapped on the door. "Are you still there?" 

Derek growled. "No, I've teleported back to Beacon Hills." 

Stiles slammed something against the door. "Oh, yeah, great fucking time for jokes!" 

"You're not the one who has twelve hours to live, apparently!" 

"Well, if you open the goddamn bathroom door, we can fix that!" 

Derek lifted his head from his hands. "What?" 

"Oh my God, dude, you need to have sex with someone fast and I don't think we have time to hunt down a prostitute." 

Derek couldn't tell if his heart's racing was from the mushrooms or from Stiles's proposition. He rubbed his chest. "Stiles, I can't—" 

"What, have sex with me?" 

"No, I can't force you to do this!" 

"You're not forcing me!" Stiles yelled. "I'm offering. If anything, you're the one being forced into this." 

Oh, if only he knew. Derek closed his eyes and fought against the arousal beating in his blood, the inner voice singing _Take him, take him, take him_. "Stiles, you can't consent." 

" _You_ can't consent!" Stiles yelled back, and it was so fucking juvenile Derek didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Look, dude, I realize that having sex with me isn't exactly the stuff dreams are made of, but given the choice between fucking my best friend or watching him die a slow and painful death, I'm going to go with the sex!" 

"That's not a choice," Derek said weakly. 

"Of course it's not!" Stiles yelled. "I don't want you to die! That means there's no other choice! Do you want to die?" 

His throat was so dry. It felt like he'd gone days without a drink. Derek tried to swallow. "I'd rather die than force you into something you didn't want." 

"Oh my God, you fucking martyr, that's not what this is," Stiles said. "Get your ass over to this door and listen to my heartbeat, Derek Hale."

Derek crawled over to the door and curled in on himself, digging his claws into his knees to keep himself listening. It wasn't hard to pick out Stiles's heartbeat, but it was nearly impossible to quiet the urges screaming in his mind.

"Derek, you've been my best friend for almost thirteen years now," Stiles said. "I don't...I can't imagine my life without you in it. I don't want to. You're not forcing me into doing anything, okay? I'm offering, of my own free will, to have what will probably be some pretty freaking awesome sex—if I do say so myself—so that I can keep you around. If you don't want to have sex with me because you don't want to, then dude, we don't have to do it. I'm not going to force you. We'll think of something else. But...don't lock yourself in there because you don't want to force _me_ , okay? You aren't. You won't."

Stiles's heart beat strong and steady through the entire thing. Derek lifted his hand to the heavy wooden door, wishing he could touch Stiles right then. Not do anything else, but just...touch him. 

"What do you want, Derek?" Stiles asked quietly. 

_You, you, I want you, I've always wanted you_. The words echoed in his head, a truth he'd been hiding for so many years. But he couldn't say it now. Stiles wouldn't believe it, would chalk it up to the fucking mushrooms. 

Instead, Derek reached up and unlocked the door. He forced himself to his feet, took a deep breath to steel himself for the onslaught of Stiles's scent, and slowly pulled the door open. 

Stiles was standing right there, eyes huge and glittering with unshed tears. Derek could smell the salt of them, mixing with Stiles's own scent, tinged with fear and misery. 

No, that wouldn't do; that wouldn't do at all.

Derek crossed the distance between them with one huge step, pushing Stiles up against the wall so that he could press his nose to the delicate skin under Stiles's jaw and just breathe in. 

Stiles squeaked, pulse thrumming like a hummingbird right under Derek's nose, but he didn't smell frightened. "Oh my God. Fuck. So we're doing this?" 

Derek nodded and rested his head on Stiles's shoulder. The desire still pounded in his blood, an ever-increasing rhythm of demand, but Derek forced it back. "Tell me what to do."

"Uh, well, considering you're the one with the poisonous mushroom sex pollen in your system right now, I think it's—"

Derek shook his head vehemently. "No. Please. I don't...I don't want to make you do something you don't want to." How he got the entire sentence out, he had no idea. 

"Like, sex-wise? Dude, seriously, there isn't anything that—" 

" _Stiles_ ," Derek growled around his fangs. 

"Okay!" Stiles yelped. "Okay, holy crap, that growling thing is actually _really_ hot, just FYI, but okay. Bottom or top?" 

Derek's hips hitched forward, and he strained to hold them in check. "Either." 

"Score," Stiles said breathlessly. "You like giving or receiving blow jobs?" 

"Both." 

"Also good. Rimming? I've always wanted to try it." 

"Haven't done it." 

"Okay, we'll put that on the backburner, then." Stiles scratched fingers along the nape of Derek's neck. "What do you say we take this to the bed and I fuck you, and then you fuck me?"

Derek nodded, fighting the urge to arch himself back into Stiles's touch. 

"Awesome. Go get as naked as you're comfortable with, and I'll grab some supplies from the bathroom." 

"Supplies?" Derek asked, and then he realized what Stiles meant. "You brought _lube_?!"

Stiles flicked his ear. "Dude, I will have you know that I am like a Boy Scout of sex. Always be prepared."

Derek laughed helplessly, and then another shudder racked his body, and he groaned. 

Stiles pushed him away. "Bed, bed now, clothes off, _go_." 

It was agony to pull himself away from Stiles, but there was also the promise of sex very soon. Derek staggered to the bed, tossed aside his jacket, and ripped off his shirt. Buttons pinged against the lamp, and he'd probably regret that in the morning, but right now the only thing he cared about was getting his clothes _off_. Besides, he'd never manage the patience to unbutton his shirt with claws. 

He kicked off his shoes and threw his belt in the same direction as his jacket, and his pants and underwear soon followed. He'd hoped the air would be cooler on his overheated skin, but it made only the barest difference. 

Derek whined and flopped face-down on the bed, grabbing the nearest pillow and burying his face in it. It was Stiles's, from the scent, and he couldn't be remotely ashamed of how he breathed it in, rutting against the bed as he did. It provided a measure of relief from the arousal coursing through him, but it wasn't enough, wasn't even close to enough. 

"Getting started without me?" Stiles said from behind him. 

Just the sound of his voice was enough to make Derek still, and he shivered in anticipation. He clutched the pillow tighter to his face. 

The bed dipped with Stiles's added weight. "You know, you're going to need to spread your legs a bit if you want me to actually fuck you." 

Derek whimpered and did as he was asked. It felt...strange, to be spreading himself like this for Stiles, more vulnerable than he ever thought he'd be. 

Stiles ran a hand over his ass, and Derek jerked up into the touch. God, if he thought it had been bad when Stiles touched him through his clothes, it was a thousand times more intense now that he was naked. 

"Holy shit," Stiles breathed. 

Derek gritted his teeth and thanked God his face was hidden in the pillow. "Are you going to fuck me or not?" 

Stiles lightly slapped his ass. "Patience, young padawan."

Derek tried to kick him, but Stiles caught his foot and pushed it back down to the bed. A second later, something cold and slick ran down the crack of his ass, and Derek couldn't suppress his moan. 

Stiles's finger pressed against his hole, rubbing the lube in a slow, tantalizing circle. "You like that?" 

Derek could only nod. It felt like all his awareness, all his overwrought senses, had zeroed in on that simple, teasing motion. "Stiles." 

"Don't worry," Stiles said, his voice rough. "I've got you." 

He slid one finger in, and then a second, and Derek's hips hitched up, welcoming the intrusion. This, _this_ was what he'd been needing since the moment he'd realized what was going on: Stiles methodically opening him up to fuck him, to _claim_ him. 

Derek panted into the pillow, the fabric moist around his mouth and eyes, trying to hold himself together when he felt like he was on the verge of shaking apart. And that was only from _two_ fingers. 

And then Stiles slipped a third. "That okay?" 

Derek nodded vigorously. It didn't even burn like it normally did when he opened himself up, which was something that he would think about more in depth much later. But right now, all he could think was how good it felt, how right, how much he needed more. 

"Good," Stiles said. "Because that means I can fuck you now." 

A shudder ran through him, and it was a miracle Derek didn't come right then just from the idea of it. 

Stiles shifted his weight over Derek, and the bed squeaked with the movements. Even through the pillow, Derek could smell him, the normal Stiles scent he was so familiar with, and then the layer of arousal that he wasn't. 

"Don't suffocate yourself in the pillow," Stiles said.

Derek started to turn to snap that he _wouldn't_ , and then he felt the head of Stiles's cock pressing against his rim and slipping inside. Words went away, vanished into the ether, and all he cared about was getting fucked and getting fucked _now_.

"Oh my God," Stiles whispered. "Fuck, you feel really, really fucking good, Derek, I mean—" 

Derek growled and shoved back, trying to get Stiles deeper inside him. 

Stiles laughed hoarsely. "Oh, okay, so that's how it's going to be?" He tapped Derek's thigh. "Come on, up on your knees. Let me get some leverage." 

Derek whined at the thought of moving, at the thought of Stiles pulling out of him, but did as he was told. He leaned back until he was on his knees and his ass was in the air, his cock hanging hard and neglected between his legs. He let go of the pillow, but only to bury his face in his arms, still hiding it from Stiles. 

"There we go," Stiles said, and slid back into him in one smooth motion. 

Derek tore through the sheets with his claws, but he had no time to say anything, no time to _think_ anything else, because Stiles was pounding into him, hard and relentless. It was just what he'd wanted, just what he'd _needed_ , and all he could do was open his mouth against the sheets and moan. 

"Fucking hell, you feel so good," Stiles said, and then his slick hand closed around Derek's leaking cock. 

Derek jolted at the touch. His fangs lengthened, the last shreds of his control slipping away as Stiles stroked him and fucked him. His mind went blank, emptied of everything but the sensation and the scent of Stiles. 

His orgasm crashed into him like the snap of a band, sharp and unexpected and relieving all at the same time. Derek actually growled, and he was pretty sure he tore another strip off the sheets. 

Above him, Stiles swore and his hips stuttered, and then he slumped over Derek's back with a breathy " _fuck_." 

"Fuck," Derek echoed, because what else could he say? 

They lay there for another few moments, no sound in the room but their harsh breaths, beating hearts, and the hum of the air conditioner kicking on. 

"How do you feel?" Stiles finally croaked out. 

Derek tried to pull his brain back together after it had been fucked out of him. "Um. Better. I think?" 

"That's good." Stiles pulled out of him with a groan, and flopped back on the mattress. "Because if you're going to fuck me, too, I need a few minutes." 

Derek laughed into the torn sheets, shaky and trembling, his body still buzzing and weak from the high of orgasm. The smell of sex was _everywhere_. God, he hoped no other werewolves would be coming into this room. He rolled himself onto his back. "You mean you're not ready to go right now?" 

"I know this will shock you, but I'm not actually a teenager anymore, dickweed." Stiles slightly lifted his head. "But apparently you're all ready for round two, damn."

Derek looked down, where his cock was still hard and red, arching up toward his belly button. He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. "Fuck me." 

Stiles flopped his hand out to pat him on the shoulder. "Already did." 

Derek flipped him off. 

Stiles laughed. "It's okay. Just give me, like, five minutes. Maybe ten." 

Derek gingerly sat up and winced. The insistent need wasn't nearly as bad as it had been, but he could still feel it thrumming under his skin, getting stronger as his afterglow faded. At least he could think now, which was definitely a step in the right direction. And his claws had receded, at least for now.

He stumbled his way into the bathroom, wet a washcloth with warm water, and made his way back to the bed. Stiles hadn't moved an inch, still splayed on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes. 

Derek sat beside him and tapped his leg. "Don't fall asleep on me." 

Stiles jerked his arm away from his face. "'M not!" 

Derek rolled his eyes. "That was convincing." 

Stiles propped himself up on his elbows and glared, but the effect was ruined when he yawned. 

"Go on, flip over," Derek said. 

Stiles groaned, but he rolled over and grabbed a pillow to tuck under his head. "Just warning you, I might actually fall asleep in this position. But you totally have my permission to fuck me even if I do, okay?" 

Derek moved over between Stiles's spread legs. "If you fall asleep while I'm fucking you, something's gone horribly wrong."

"Hey, not all of us can be awesome sex gods, okay? It's—" 

Derek swiped the washcloth over Stiles's ass.

" _Hng_." Stiles's hips hitched. "Fuck, what are you doing?" 

"You said you needed ten minutes," Derek said innocently. "I'm just helping you get ready." He hesitated. "Is that...okay?" 

Stiles flapped a hand. "Do whatever you need to do, big guy." 

Derek nodded, even though Stiles couldn't see it, and went back to cleaning him. This was something he'd thought about doing...a lot, if he was being absolutely honest with himself. And now was probably the only chance he'd ever get. 

He tossed the washcloth aside when he was finished, and traced his fingers over the curve of Stiles's ass. There were two moles, one near the small of his back and the other in the center of his left cheek, and Derek kissed both. 

Stiles shuddered. "You keep that up, I'm probably going to be ready faster." 

"Good," Derek said, and spread his cheeks so he could lick right over Stiles's hole. 

Stiles jolted like he'd been shocked. " _Fuck_ , dude, warn a guy!" 

"Stiles, I'm going to rim you now," Derek deadpanned. 

Stiles actually whined. "Oh my _God_." 

Derek tenderly licked him again and rubbed his thumb along the rim of Stiles's hole. Stiles let out a shuddery sigh. "Fuck, Derek." 

Derek took that as encouragement to continue.

He kissed and licked, using one hand to keep Stiles's cheeks spread and the other to reach up and massage right behind his balls. It didn't take long before Stiles was writhing under his ministrations, hips rolling against the bed. 

Derek sucked on his finger until it was wet and dripping, and pressed just the tip into Stiles's hole as he continued to lick around it. 

"Oh my God." Stiles moaned. "I'm going to need you to fuck me right now." 

Derek pulled his finger out. "It hasn't been ten minutes yet." 

"You _asshole_." 

Derek raised his eyebrow at the choice of words, and then returned to rimming Stiles, a little rougher now, dragging his stubble across the pale skin of Stiles's ass. Soon, he was shoving back against Derek's face, swearing between every panted breath. 

Derek groped around for the lube and slicked up two fingers, and then pulled back so he could replace his tongue with his fingers. Stiles cursed anew, pushing back with a needy whine. 

"I'm going to need you to fuck me in about five seconds or I'm going to explode," Stiles said. 

"Oh?" Derek deliberately slowed the movements of his fingers. "I thought I was the one who'd had the sex mushroom." 

"Oh my God, you're such a dick."

"No." Derek pulled his fingers out and pressed the head of his cock against Stiles's hole, but not pushing in. Not just yet. " _That_ is a dick."

Stiles burst out into breathless laughter, his whole body shaking with it. "I can't...fucking believe...you just...oh my _God_." 

The sound of Stiles's laughter made something warm and fond unfurl in his chest, and Derek quickly rubbed his still-lubed fingers over his cock, slicking it up, shuddering at the sensation. He had to focus on this, focus on the sex, not on...anything else. 

This was just sex, just a one-time thing. Stiles was helping him out; he couldn't let his feelings complicate the issue.

He pushed the head of his cock against Stiles's hole once more, this time sliding in slowly, achingly slowly, savoring every single second of it. Stiles felt _fantastic_ , a hot, slick clench around his cock, and Derek had to stop moving and take a deep breath to keep himself under control. 

"Oh my God," Stiles said again, but the laughter was gone from his voice, replaced by hoarse desire. "You need to fuck me fast and soon or I'm going to explode." 

"I thought exploding was kind of the point."

Stiles barked out a laugh. "Now. Now, of all times, is when you decide to get with the jokes." 

"Otherwise it'll be over too fast," Derek said softly.

Stiles jerked his head up. "Oh, you want it to last longer?" 

_Hell_. Derek hadn't meant for him to hear that. He reached around and ran his hand along Stiles's cock, trying to distract him. "I should at least try and make it good, don't you think?" 

Stiles arched into his touch and swore. 

Derek fucked him steadily, but not fast—he wasn't sure he could hold back his strength with fast right now, and he didn't want to hurt Stiles—and just tried to focus on making this last as long as possible. It was difficult, though, with his senses overwhelmed, when he could hear every little noise Stiles made, when every breath brought him sweat and arousal and sex. 

No matter how he tried to make it last, though, he was racing toward his orgasm too quickly. The need pounded in his blood again, in time with every thrust of his hips, and Derek was helpless against it. It certainly didn't help that Stiles switched between cursing and moaning his name. 

With one final thrust, Derek buried himself in Stiles and came, shaking through his second orgasm of the night. This one was even stronger than the first, and he pressed his face into the back of Stiles's neck, breathing in the scent there while his body tried to shake itself apart. 

Stiles clenched around him and cried out, and dimly Derek was aware of the hot smell of come on the bed. Right now, all his focus was on keeping himself from collapsing onto Stiles. 

"Holy _fuck_ , dude, that was amazing. That might even be more amazing than fucking you." Stiles shuddered. "I had no idea your dick was so big." 

"Huh?" Derek said. It was about all he was capable of at the moment. 

"Your dick," Stiles said. "It's _huge_. Or at least, it feels huge. It might be my post-orgasm glow making things feel different than normal." 

With trembling arms, Derek pushed himself up so he could pull out and see what the hell Stiles was talking about, because he was _pretty_ sure he was an average size. 

Then he realized he couldn't pull out. 

The sweat on his back went cold, and Derek gaped down at his cock. "Oh, shit." 

"Oh shit?" Stiles looked back over his shoulder. "What's 'oh shit'? 'Oh shit' isn't really something I want to hear right now." 

Derek scrambled to think of how to explain. "Um..." 

"'Um' doesn't exactly inspire confidence, either," Stiles said, panic lacing its way into his voice. 

"We're knotted," Derek said quickly, hoping to ease the panic.

"We're _what?!_ " 

"Knotted," Derek repeated. "I, uh, apparently knotted you." 

"You have a _knot?!_ " 

Stiles pushed up like he was going to move, and Derek hissed at the sensation. It wasn't good or bad, it was just too _much_. 

"Stop moving," Derek said through gritted teeth. 

"Sorry, sorry." Stiles stilled. "But holy shit, don't you think you should've told me that you have a knot?!"

"I didn't know," Derek snapped. 

And he _hadn't_ , because werewolves only knotted when it was with their mate. 

Stiles stiffened and sucked in a breath, and Derek knew they were about to launch into an argument that he really, _really_ didn't want to have right now. 

"It's really rare," he continued, hoping to assuage Stiles's curiosity before he could ask too many more questions. "It's never...happened to me before. I didn't think it would." 

That part, at least, was true. 

Stiles dropped his head to his forearms and groaned. "So how long are we stuck like this?" 

"I'm not sure," Derek admitted. "No longer than an hour, I think. I'm sorry, I—" 

"Ugh, it's okay, you say you didn't know and I believe you," Stiles said. "But I really don't think I can stay like this for an hour." 

"Me neither," Derek agreed. His knees were already beginning to sting. 

It took some shuffling and a lot of swearing, but they finally managed to shove the wet sheets aside and settle on a relatively dry patch of the bed. Derek was grateful when they could finally stop moving, because the sensations from his knot had moved from "maybe good or bad" to "definitely good," and he didn't want to come in Stiles yet _again_. 

"How do you feel?" Stiles asked. "I mean, aside from the knot." 

The wretched heat and the need that had been buzzing under his skin since they'd left dinner had finally subsided, and now Derek just felt sleepy and sated and content. And, thankfully, clear-headed. "Good. I think...whatever was in those mushrooms, we got rid of it." 

"Yes!" Stiles lifted his hand. "Up top!" 

Derek stared at the hand hanging in the air. "Are you _kidding_." 

"It's not like I can give you a celebratory hug, big guy, so give me a high five!" Stiles wiggled his fingers. 

With a groan, Derek slapped Stiles's hand and wondered why in the _hell_ he had fallen in love with him. 

"We've got to figure out who did that to you," Stiles said. "They could've put those mushrooms in the other steak dishes, and what would happen to the other werewolves who didn't have anyone to help them through this?" 

Derek nodded, his head brushing against Stiles's back as he did. That was very important to do, but he was exhausted, and knotted, and it was all he could do to keep up with the thread of the conversation as it was. 

"Derek? Are you falling asleep on me?" 

"No," Derek mumbled into Stiles's back. 

"Liar," Stiles said fondly. "Okay, get some sleep. But we're dealing with this tomorrow." 

"Okay," Derek said, and closed his eyes.

***

He woke up slowly the next morning, gradually becoming aware of the outside world. The room stank of sex and stale sweat and come, and Derek pushed his nose into the pillow to block it out. He felt warm and heavy and _good_ , in a way he hadn't in a very long time. 

Another warm body was snuggled up against him, their heartbeat a sleepy counterpoint to Derek's own, and he was about to drift back into sleep when everything clicked in his mind and he snapped his eyes open. 

He'd had sex with Stiles last night. He'd _knotted_ Stiles last night. 

_Shit._

Derek eased his way out from behind Stiles, who was still completely out and snoring softly into his pillow. He hesitated, and then pulled the sheet up over Stiles's pale shoulder. Sunlight played across his skin, and the sight of it made Derek's heart ache. 

No. He needed to shower, to clear his head, to be prepared to hide his feelings the moment Stiles woke up. He needed time to compose himself. 

Derek cranked the water on as hot as he could stand and stepped into the shower, letting the spray wash away the sweat, the come, the smell of Stiles that still clung to his skin. He hated to do it, wanted so badly to cling to it for just a little longer, but the faster he had it off of him, the better it would be. Tamping down on his feelings again would be terrible; having to smell Stiles on him while he did it would only make it harder. 

He scrubbed himself down three times, but while it got rid of the smell, it did nothing to erase Derek's memory of Stiles's hands on him, the sounds that were burned into his memory now. He knew what it was to have Stiles that close, to fuck him and be fucked by him, to _knot_ him, for God's sake. 

Derek wiped his face with shaky hands. The only saving grace there was that Stiles _didn't_ know what it meant to be knotted. And he'd seemed more concerned with finding out how those mushrooms had gotten into Derek's food in the first place, so maybe he'd focus his energies there. Derek had no doubt that the moment Stiles was awake again, he'd dive headfirst into figuring that out. 

Admittedly, he was curious as well, but at the moment he was just grateful that the burning in his skin was gone and he wasn't going to die. Relief was taking precedence over anger. 

He rested his head against the wet tile, breathing in the steam, letting the water pound at his shoulders. 

It was going to be fine. He was going to be fine. He'd handled his feelings this long. He was going to be fine.

After another moment, Derek finally felt steady enough to turn off the shower and brave the hotel room once again. He dried off and wrapped the towel tightly around his waist before venturing out into the room.

Stiles was sitting up in the bed, sheet over his lap, already on his computer. 

Derek opened his mouth to ask what he was up to, but Stiles looked up at him with those too-smart amber eyes and said, "Werewolves only knot with their mates."

Stiles might as well have hit him in the stomach. Derek could only stare at him, trying to make his mouth work.

"Were you going to tell me?" Stiles asked. 

"Of course," Derek said, his throat dry. 

Stiles pinned him with a fierce gaze. "Were you going to tell me _everything_? Were you really going to tell me what it meant, or were you just going to gloss over this bit about werewolves mating for life?" 

"I..." He moved his mouth, but words wouldn't come. He felt more exposed than he ever had, and wished he could hide under the blanket. He sat on the desk chair instead. "I hadn't decided yet," he admitted. 

"You hadn't decided?!" Stiles shoved his laptop to the side. "Are you serious right now? You were going to lie to me about the fact that we're mates—" 

Derek sighed and rubbed his head. "It's not...It's not like it's a one and done thing. Other wolves—" 

"Can sometimes find another person if something happens to their mate, yadda yadda, you act like I didn't just spend the past twenty minutes doing research on this." Stiles leaned forward, amber eyes glinting, the anger coming off him in waves. "But for the most part, it _is_ one and done. You find someone, you click, you mate, and that's it for you. And you weren't going to tell me that?" 

"I don't want you to feel obligated," Derek said quietly. 

"I wouldn't—"

"You would," Derek said, because if there was anything he knew about Stiles, it was his undying loyalty. "You would, and you would do it because of that. But it wouldn't be like last night, a one-time thing. It would...it would be our lives. And eventually you'd resent me and I can't..." He clenched his fists. "I don't want that. You're my best friend. I couldn't live with it if you resented me. I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life and know you were happy than be together and know that you hated me for it." 

Stiles gaped at him. "You...you martyring _asshole_." 

Stiles clambered off the bed and strode across the room. Before Derek could say anything, Stiles straddled his lap and kissed him. 

Derek froze for a split second, too shocked to react, and then Stiles nipped at the bottom of his lip and Derek opened his mouth and kissed him back. 

It was like falling off a cliff, like the only tether holding him back had snapped, and he was hopelessly, helplessly losing himself in Stiles. He dragged his hands up Stiles's back, raking his fingers along the skin, pulling Stiles closer to him. 

"I've been in love with you for years," Stiles said between kisses. 

Derek nodded, pulling him back down for another taste. "Me, too." 

"I can't believe you were going to lie to me about that." 

"I'm sorry," Derek said. "You really want this, though? Want...me?" 

Stiles kissed him so deeply and thoroughly that Derek almost forgot his own name. "Yes, I really want you. I want to sleep next to you and wake up to you and read comics on the balcony with my feet on your lap while you bitch about how much they smell but never even try to push them off. And then I want everybody here to keep their grubby paws off my mate, _goddammit_." 

Derek laughed like it had been shocked out of him. "I didn't figure you for the possessive type." 

"I'm not," Stiles said. "Except when they're making you uncomfortable. Then I'm very possessive. And angry." 

Derek couldn't believe his ears, and he felt like a complete and utter fool. If they'd just talked...if he'd had the courage to admit his feelings sooner, they could've been here _as_ mates, instead of just pretending at it. 

"What time do we have to be at the airport?" Stiles asked. 

"Uh..." Derek tried to think. "Our flight leaves at two, so about an hour before that." 

"Hm, and check-out's not until 11?" 

Derek shook his head. "Why?" 

"And you are one hundred percent not under the influence of the horrible sex mushroom, right?" 

Derek trailed his hands along Stiles's bare skin. "I am one hundred percent sober, yes." 

"Good," Stiles said. "Because I think I need to blow you in the shower before we leave." He pressed down against the towel, and Derek could feel the hard length of him pressing against his own erection. "How does that sound?" 

Derek arched his hips up and relished the hiss of pleasure Stiles let out. "That sounds like a fantastic plan."

***

It turned out Stiles was just as talented using his mouth for blow jobs as he was with using it for literally everything else, and when Derek came, he smacked his head against the shower tile hard enough to see stars. Stiles wasn't even remotely apologetic, and Derek got his revenge by jacking him off until he was close to the edge, and then pulling back, until Stiles was a cursing mess. It was worth every minute of it, even though the water was starting to go cold by the time they were through. 

Packing took longer than it should've, because Derek couldn't keep his hands off of Stiles (although Stiles couldn't keep his hands off Derek, either, so really, they were both at fault). Derek still couldn't believe he got to do this, that he and Stiles could be more than just friends. That he could let his touch linger, that he could kiss Stiles on the cheek and trace his hands and know that it would be welcomed. 

Despite the delays, they were downstairs with their luggage and checked out before eleven. Since they still had some time before they needed to head to the airport, Stiles dragged Derek over to the hotel's café. 

"Come on, I need some caffeine," he said with a wink. "Considering you kept me up all night."

"You volunteered to be kept up all night," Derek pointed out. "And I don't recall you complaining then." 

"Oh, no, not complaining. Never complaining," Stiles said. 

He set his bag down by a table and grabbed Derek's wrist to pull him in for a kiss. Derek was too keenly aware that they were in public to let it get too heated, but he was more than happy to sink into Stiles's scent, into the gentle press of lips. 

Stiles made a happy humming noise in the back of his throat. 

"Well, Derek, it sounds like you're having a good morning," a new voice said behind them. 

Derek jerked his head up to see Deucalion standing there, tapping his cane against the floor. His lips twisted like he'd smelled something particularly distasteful. Possibly the smell of sex; even with showering as much as they had, Derek had a feeling he and Stiles still reeked of it and each other. 

"Good morning, Deucalion," Derek said evenly. 

"Deucalion!" Stiles said brightly. Too brightly. "Just the werewolf I wanted to see." 

"Oh?" Deucalion raised his eyebrows. "And just what can I do for you?" 

"You see, my boo Derek—" 

" _Please_ don't call me your boo," Derek cut in.

"—got some nasty mushrooms in his dinner last night," Stiles continued, as though Derek hadn't said a word. "In fact, they were a strain that could have killed him if he'd been alone and hadn't had someone else willing to lend a hand." 

Deucalion's lip twitched up in half a snarl before he schooled it back into place. "Oh really? I'm sorry to hear that, Derek. I hope you're feeling better this morning." 

"I am, thank you," Derek said. "Stiles was a great help." 

"How fortunate," Deucalion said flatly. 

"The thing is, someone _had_ to have sabotaged his dinner," Stiles said. "There's no way the kitchen would've put this strain of mushrooms in a meal for _werewolves_. I contacted the convention organizers about it this morning to make sure no one else had any trouble. Thankfully, no one else seems to have been affected, which means Derek was targeted deliberately." 

Derek stared at him. "When did you do that?" 

Stiles beamed. "When you were in the shower this morning, sugar dumpling." He turned back to Deucalion. "You wouldn't happen to have any idea who could've done something like that, would you?" 

"I'm sure I haven't the slightest clue," Deucalion said through gritted teeth. 

"That's good," Stiles said, "because the convention organizers were _pissed_ when I told them what had happened. In fact, I think they're out for blood. Literally. Apparently that kind of sabotage constitutes an attack on another Alpha. Who knew?" 

Deucalion actually bared his teeth and growled, just loud enough for Derek to hear.

"Anyway, I sure as hell wouldn't want to be the guy they're looking for," Stiles said conversationally. 

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," Deucalion said. "If you'll excuse me, Derek, Stiles. It appears my car has arrived, so I'm afraid I can't continue this scintillating conversation." 

"Have a safe trip," Derek said, and rested his hand on the back of Stiles's neck.

Deucalion left them swiftly, and Derek turned to Stiles. "What was all that about?" 

Stiles glared at Deucalion's retreating back. "I'm betting he's the one who slipped those mushrooms into your dinner. And he'd better run. He's going to have several Alphas coming for him after that stunt." 

Derek stared at him, not quite able to believe his ears. "You just threatened one of the most powerful Alphas in the Western United States." 

Stiles grinned and scratched his fingers along the nape of Derek's neck. "Yes. Yes, I did. He tried to kill my best friend _and_ my snuggle button. That irritates me."

Not for the first time, Derek speculated just how dangerous Stiles was as a human, that he stood up to Alpha werewolves without second thought. God help them all if Stiles ever decided to change his mind about taking the Bite.

Then... "Snuggle button? _Really?_ "

Stiles shrugged, looking utterly unapologetic. "Come on, can't I have a pet name for you? You can have one for me." 

"No." 

"Okay, so snuggle button is off the table. How about 'kitten'?" 

"No." 

"Honeybunch?" 

Derek wrinkled his nose. "No." 

"Muffin butt?" 

" _No_." 

"How about—" 

Derek pulled him close, so that their noses brushed. "You can call me Derek, or you can call me mate." He lowered his voice. "I like how my name sounds when you say it." 

Stiles grinned. "Well, when you put it like that, I will happily call you 'Derek, my mate' for the rest of my life." 

Derek's heart flipped so hard he was certain that Stiles had heard it. "Yeah...yeah, that sounds good."

***

Stiles made them take a selfie in front of the airport of him kissing Derek's cheek to send to their friends and family to announce their relationship. Scott sent back a string of excited emojis, Erica left Derek an excited, screechy voicemail (which ended with Boyd wrestling the phone from her to say "congratulations, man" and then hanging up before Erica could get it back), and Sheriff Stilinski responded that it was about damn time and to invite Derek over for dinner sometime in the next week, for God's sake, Stiles.

But the text that made Derek's heart lift was the one from his mother.  
_  
I'm so glad you found him._

He looked at Stiles sitting next to him at the airport, responding to Lydia's and Allison's messages, his head resting on Derek's shoulder like it belonged there. 

As far as Derek was concerned, it did. 

He sent her a message back with a smile on his face. _Me, too_.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy hell how do I have nearly 200 works on AO3.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mad_madam_m)!


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